


Adam Sends Nigel a Snapchat He Can't Refuse

by thymogenic (orphan_account)



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Spacedogs - Fandom
Genre: Adam Gets Nigel To Come Home Early, Brass knuckles, But Not Explicitly - Freeform, Gambling, Illegal Activities, Lots o'Cursing, M/M, Nigel and Adam are Going to Do the Do, Seka - Freeform, Snapchat, This is Just Cute Okay?, Vodka Drinking, Wearing Nothing But Nigel's Doggy Shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thymogenic
Summary: Nigel is stuck on a job with some very unaccommodating clients, and all he wants to do his get home to his spaceman (Adam's sent snap helps to speed up the process, though). Never keep an angry and horny Romanian away from the object of his affections, or you'll regret it!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrokenDeathAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=BrokenDeathAngel).



> A quick one shot inspired by [BrokenDeathAngel's](http://brokendeathangel.tumblr.com) lovely, lovely [fanart!](http://brokendeathangel.tumblr.com/post/151878684259/thymogenic-brokendeathangel-adam-sending)

Nigel lights another cigarette, inhaling deeply before withdrawing the burning object to rest between his fingers. He twiddles it around impatiently, as smoke billows heavily from his nostrils above pursed lips, conjuring all the images one might have of an angry cartoon bull. Three hours. Three fucking hours he's been sitting in this shitty dock house smoking cigarettes and playing solitaire with Darko's worn out titty deck at the moldy couch and dusty table that are the only contents of the grimy space. Fucking Russians. They were always late with the goods.

He had told Darko to get some other asshole to do the pick-up, but Darko just gave him a bunch of bullshit about doing his part to keep up appearances and that sucking it up and doing some grunt work from time to time was something they all just had to deal with in this organization. Nigel didn't mind grunt work. But he knows that every fucking time with these guys there was always an issue, and this time is no exception.

Suddenly, his phone buzzes - a notification from snapchat. He often uses it whenever he has to be away from Adam for a while to keep from going crazy with longing. The app has served them well so far; he likes being able to get messages along with photos from his boyfriend. It was simple and easy and gave him exactly the visual stimulation he needed to feel better on days like these.

Adam had found it cumbersome at first to add the activity to his daily routine at such short notice and he didn't really know how to make the snaps fun for Nigel either, but after Nigel let him know that he could just take pictures of what he was already doing and to caption them anyway he felt fit to, he gradually became more accustomed to the app the more often they had to use it. After a time, it became something which eased the mutual loneliness they felt every time they were unable to be together, whether it be over bowls of macaroni or during house chores or even marathon sessions of "Inside the Actor's Studio with James Lipton."

Nigel opens the app to see a photo of Adam shot selfie style on their bed. _'Did the pick up go smoothly, Nigel?'_ reads its caption.

Nigel stubs out his cigarette into the battered wood of the table and then snaps himself frowning, an affected and goofy kind of display that he allows only Adam ever to witness. _'Fucking Russians - still not here.'_

Back at their Manhattan apartment, Adam frowns for real as he looks around. In this part of the evening he hasn't got anything planned. They usually spend this time together cuddling or reading together and then having sex. He rolls over to see Nigel's favorite shirt hung on the back of the chair tucked into their bedroom desk, just next to the bed. He sits up and then grabs it to bring up to his face. Nigel's scent fills his airways. He thinks about what they would normally be doing at this time, right here on this very bed, and his body begins to crave Nigel. But Nigel is away for work. And the 'fucking Russians' still haven't even arrived...then, Adam recalls one instance a few months ago when he was able to persuade Nigel to come home a bit earlier than expected. Holding Nigel's shirt in his hands, he knows just what to do.

 

* * *

Nigel's phone buzzes again, but just as he goes to unlock it, the faint whirring of a trolling motor reaches his ears. _Fucking finally!_ Nigel leaves his phone in his pocket for the time being to go ready the dock to receive them. In the darkness of night, three figures slowly materialize as they come into the light emanating from the dock house. "К сожалению, мы опоздали! _Sorry we're late!"_ the big bald one at the bow of the small motorized dinghy exclaims at Nigel, with his hand raised in apology and in greeting. Nigel scowls at him.

"You know I don't speak Russian, Timur," Nigel says as he ties off the vessel to keep it from floating away. 

Timur, and one other bulky man, Alexei, jump up onto the dock. Timur addresses Nigel in English this time. "Sorry ve could not come at ze agreed time. Had to vait for some coast guard patrols to leave ze area, first." Alexei's much heftier and intimidating brother, Pavel, remains on the dinghy to toss the loot up to him.

"Let's just do this and get the fuck out of here," Nigel says, as he goes to assist in grabbing the crates. He then starts to get them from Alexei, one by one, and transports them into the locker at the back of the old building. Timur takes a seat on the couch. He magically summons up the biggest fucking bottle of vodka anyone could ever fit into the inside pocket of a peacoat, and proceeds to take sips from it as he watches the others work.

Later, as the last crate is nestled and locked away, Nigel calls Darko to confirm receipt of the shipment, so that he can transfer the funds electronically to the others back at the office. Once they confirm that the transaction is complete, Nigel shakes hands with Timur and begins readying to leave.

"Vhat are you doing, Nigel?" Timur inquires, passing the bottle of vodka over to the now seated brothers beside him.

"What does it look like? Getting the fuck out of here!"

Alexei shuffles Darko's titty deck in his hand. "Vhat's the hurry?" he adds to the conversation. "Ve have been at sea for veeks. Let's have a leettle bit of fun before ze tide goes out and we must once more brave ze curs-ed ocean."

Nigel thinks. They seem dead set on not leaving right away. And he would be foolish to just leave them here getting drunk on vodka, alone with the newly acquired stash. Locked as it may be, with unsupervised time and skill, they could feasibly get back their product and make off with it and the money both..."Yeah, okay, I'm willing to give an hour of my time. But, that's the best I can do."

In the background the other men cheer and begin setting up the cards to have a game. Nigel takes out his phone to call Darko again.

"...Yeah?"

"You've got to come over here, now."

"What the fuck are you on about?"

Nigel ducks out onto the dock 'for a smoke' and hushes his voice to a raspy whisper as he continues to speak, "These fucking Russians won't leave! Been at sea too long - they wanna play some cards and get drunk before they have to get back."

"So fucking play cards with them! Drink vodka! Why the fuck do you need me to come out there and entertain?"

Nigel crushes the lit cigarette in his fist. "Listen to me, nenorocitule _motherfucker_! I have been a good boy here, twiddling my thumbs for nearly four fucking hours. Surely, you will not have me endure another minute when it is within your power to relieve me. This goes beyond what was required of me and besides...Adam is waiting for me. I've disturbed his schedule enough as it is." Nigel's voice shifts from blind rage into soft concern as he goes on. He misses his spaceman. He's been away from him for much too long.

Darko let's out a long sigh in sympathy. "Listen, Nigel. By the time I arrive they'll be gone. Just try your best to hurry them out. I'm sure Adam will forgive you, the sweet little thing."

Nigel hangs up and goes back inside. He's resigned to just get through the night and try to make it up to Adam in the morning. "Alright gentlemen, what are we playing?"

All three of the men reply in chorus: "SEKA!!!"

Nigel runs his hand over his face in exasperation, _not this fucking game._

 

* * *

Fifty minutes into the game and Nigel has lost five hundred bucks in the first two hands, but gained back two hundred in the last. His urgency to leave has waned in the wake of his monetary losses and he has since become more motivated to prevent these fucking Russians from leaving with any more of his hard earned cash. Since he won the last hand, he's now the dealer, and about to hand out the next round of cards when Pavel asks to pause the game so he can take a leak. Just then, Nigel remembers Adam's message that he hadn't checked as he waits and opens his phone to see what he had sent.

He taps on Adam's waiting snap to find the single most tantalizing image he could never have expected, but is oh so thankful for: one of Adam looking coquettishly at the camera as he sits on his knees on their shared bed. He wears nothing except Nigel's favorite doggy shirt and the deep red heated blush of unadulterated prurience that Nigel knows so, so well, as a single condom sits suggestively in his mouth. The caption reads: _I miss you Nigel! Come home soon._

__[](http://67.media.tumblr.com/de6a58843c94d5df5e78a6b1fcd97459/tumblr_of1n010LgV1rg8wzro1_1280.jpg) _ _

__Fuck. The. Money._ _

Nigel sits up abruptly and begins babbling as his hands clumsily gather up the cards and cash, "Alright fellas it's been great but I really must be going now and I certainly can't be leaving you guys here on your own so as the saying goes – YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO HOME BUT YOU CAN'T FUCKING STAY HERE!"

All three of the men reply in violent tandem, slamming their hard Russian fists into the table. The bottle of vodka falls to the floor, smashing into a million shards of clear glass.

Timur speaks for them, "Leesten, you Romanian piece of shit. Ve are not leaving until ve have taken all of your money, or you, ours."

Nigel slowly takes out the brass knuckles he keeps in his back pocket and places them on his right hand and then he cracks the knuckles on his left. "Pardon the pun, gentlemen, but, you wanna bet?"

 

* * *

When Nigel kicks in the bedroom door, it startles Adam so much he falls off the bed from where he was perched and reading. He looks at Nigel from his dusty shoes, up tattered and rust stained clothes, all the way to his busted up face, which is all shades of purple and blue and in certain places oxidized red where blood has dried in thick streams along his brow. His left eye is nearly swollen shut.

"Oh my god! Nigel! What happened!?" Adam hurries up to him to assess the damage more closely.

Nigel smiles wide and licks his lips lecherously as he takes his turn to look Adam up and down. "Nothing darling. Just had a bit of a disagreement."

"But you're bleeding, Nigel!"

"Oh this?" he says as he wipes at the blood on his forehead, "It's not mine."

"Nigel..." Adam can hardly believe what a good mood Nigel is in, but if he says he's fine, then he must be. "I guess that's what kept you so long, huh?"

Nigel nods his head with boyish energy. He steps forward and begins fiddling with the buttons on his own shirt that Adam is wearing. "Now where is that photo prop you had in that lovely mouth of yours?" he asks with the playful tilt of his head.

Adam pulls the pink-wrapped condom out of his pocket and shows it to Nigel.

Nigel grabs it and tackles Adam down onto the bed. And they both giggle with delight.


End file.
